06-25-2021, 01:39 PM
I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Her reluctance hadn’t been missed. Aela hadn’t shared what had happened between her and Sylva’s leader but based on his own experience, he can roughly guess that it hadn’t been pleasant. Still it seems fitting that the golden mare be here although he still wonders if perhaps they should have brought Wherewolf with them as well. It had been his intention to send the scowling pegasus in his place to give Sabra the news but after what had happened in Loess he changed his mind. Better the news come from his own lips, better to see her reaction for himself to see how she took it.
As they settle themselves to wait, his companion leans into him briefly and it’s enough to entice a small smile from the dark stallion as a boost of confidence swells through him. It only seems to confirm that perhaps she might be just as on edge as she is beneath their cool exteriors. He watches how her gaze seems to linger back from where they had come, as if her body would like to physically remove itself immediately. His muzzle lingers near her neck, blunt teeth gently grazing against her sunlit skin briefly before pulling back. It had been awhile since he had explored the curves of her body and felt her kisses travel across his glittering skin, she had become increasingly distant in that area since the approach of autumn and he grows impatient in his wanting for her. He will not admit that he is rather wounded by this, that she has managed to settle herself in a part of him that he had not expected. After this trip he means to get to the root of it, bolstered by her surge of confidence, once they are safe back in their wildflower home. He means to whisper her a promise to leave as soon as possible but then they are alone no longer.
Sabra looks… different. It’s not just that she has physically changed colors some how (maroon where she had once been a sickeningly pastel blue) but something in her demeanor seems… off. His gaze sweeps over the javelin still firmly lodged in her chest and with a sweep of nausea thinks he catches a glint of blood around the wound. He firmly avoids direct eye contact as he looks her over and tries to put a finger on what exactly has changed, for better or worse. “Sabra.” He greets smoothly, covering himself in the warm folds of Aela’s boost of confidence. “I remember you asked me not to be boring. So I come with news. The Pampas are mine. It seems we are ruling neighbors now.” He sees no point in beating around the bush as they both don’t want to linger longer than needed.
As they settle themselves to wait, his companion leans into him briefly and it’s enough to entice a small smile from the dark stallion as a boost of confidence swells through him. It only seems to confirm that perhaps she might be just as on edge as she is beneath their cool exteriors. He watches how her gaze seems to linger back from where they had come, as if her body would like to physically remove itself immediately. His muzzle lingers near her neck, blunt teeth gently grazing against her sunlit skin briefly before pulling back. It had been awhile since he had explored the curves of her body and felt her kisses travel across his glittering skin, she had become increasingly distant in that area since the approach of autumn and he grows impatient in his wanting for her. He will not admit that he is rather wounded by this, that she has managed to settle herself in a part of him that he had not expected. After this trip he means to get to the root of it, bolstered by her surge of confidence, once they are safe back in their wildflower home. He means to whisper her a promise to leave as soon as possible but then they are alone no longer.
Sabra looks… different. It’s not just that she has physically changed colors some how (maroon where she had once been a sickeningly pastel blue) but something in her demeanor seems… off. His gaze sweeps over the javelin still firmly lodged in her chest and with a sweep of nausea thinks he catches a glint of blood around the wound. He firmly avoids direct eye contact as he looks her over and tries to put a finger on what exactly has changed, for better or worse. “Sabra.” He greets smoothly, covering himself in the warm folds of Aela’s boost of confidence. “I remember you asked me not to be boring. So I come with news. The Pampas are mine. It seems we are ruling neighbors now.” He sees no point in beating around the bush as they both don’t want to linger longer than needed.
obscene
@Aela @Sabra
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}